


Sex is Not the Enemy

by random_flores



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:35:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_flores/pseuds/random_flores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santana’s the hottest girl in school, and Brittany’s the second hottest girl in school (she’s not being cocky, it’s just the truth), and when the two of them make out and stuff… she knows it’s like a hotness explosion.  She knows, and she’s got proof.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex is Not the Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> AN: For dealanexmachina, who wanted me to write a ficlet based on the idea that Brittany releases the sex-tape as a passive-aggressive protest to the school not letting her and Santana kiss in public. I really don’t expect it to go down like this, but… why not?

_I'm lookin' in the mirror and I like what I see:  
I've lost the fear & the horror that's been eating at me_  
-I Love Myself Today, Bif Naked 

\--

Here’s the thing about Brittany S. Pierce. 

She kinda lets people think she’s stupid. 

Which isn’t to say that she isn’t totally legit-dumb about some stuff, because she can totally be, but there’s a big difference between not knowing stuff and just letting people assume that because she has a hard time with fractions and confuses Presidents she’s another… Finn. 

Finn is like, super dumb. 

And he’s not even the kind of dumb that’s _tolerable_ \- he’s the kind of dumb that thinks he’s actually smart, and if that’s not the most annoying kind of dumb, Brittany doesn’t know what is. 

Brittany kind of hates that people think he’s smarter than she is. 

See, Brittany’s better than Finn – cause she’s got patience and she’s always got a plan. Finn? 

Finn has a dick and a poochy stomach, and that’s about it. 

Come to think of it, she kind of hates Finn in general, nowadays. 

But it’s not like anyone can blame her, really. Not if they knew how hard she had been working, how patient she had been, how awesome her plan was to help Santana finally be okay with being herself, with coming out. And she was so close, SO close before Finn opened his stupid big fat mouth and outed Santana to the entire school before Brittany had become president and made it safe for unicorns. 

See, Brittany? She’s always got a plan and it lets her get away with stuff, because people think she’s stupid. 

And that’s really the problem with McKinley High School and Lima in general – it’s actually full of really stupid people. 

But she’s not one of them. 

Sure, maybe she’s different. Maybe she likes to look at the world a certain way, but honestly, who can really blame her? Why shouldn’t you believe in magic if it gets you things like an all-Marshmallow box of Lucky Charms and free candy bars? 

If it can get you that, then why can’t you shut your eyes and wish for a world where Artie can walk and her beautiful Santana can be the person she is when she’s with Brittany like all the time? 

Well… maybe not exactly the person she is with Brittany, because then half of Lima would be in love with Santana like she is, and really, it’s bad enough right now with Santana being a famous youtube lesbian thanks to that stupid commercial and all those lesbians perving on her on facebook and stuff. 

And it sucks because now she gets why Santana was always so scared. She didn’t before, but she does now, and it makes her feel kinda bad for pushing Santana so hard before. 

Because people can be really, really stupid. And hateful. And hurtful. 

Maybe it was naïve and stupid to think that everything could just be okay once it all settled down and Santana and her were together, honestly and totally. But most of the time, it totally is, especially when it’s just her and Santana. 

But then sometimes, it’s not. Like when the stupid rugby guys say stuff to her and Santana under their breath as they pass them in the halls. Or when some of the girls duck out of the shower the second Santana walks into it, holding towels over their boobs like Santana’s gonna latch onto their nipples or something. 

Or when Santana’s _abuela_ acts like she doesn’t exist.

That’s actually the worst part. 

But most of the time, it’s manageable, even though now there’s another thing. Another STUPID, IDIOTIC THING, because some idiot complained and now she can’t even kiss Santana on school grounds. 

Santana’s right: it’s complete bull crap. Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to see her and Santana kiss? She knows for a fact that when she and Santana make out, it’s fucking hot. 

There’s no way it could _not_ be, because Santana’s the hottest girl in school, and Brittany’s the second hottest girl in school (she’s not being cocky, it’s just the truth), and when the two of them make out and stuff… she knows it’s like a hotness explosion. 

They’re totally hot right now and they’re not even doing anything. Brittany’s just sprawled out on half-naked Santana’s black comforter, leaning back on her elbows, eyes following Santana as her girlfriend drunkenly sways in front of the vanity, head bobbing in this totally hot Joan Jett kind of way to the angry girl music blasting at full volume from the BOSE speaker that houses Santana’s IPhone. 

It’s the kind of angry girl rock that Santana only listens to when she’s super pissed, the same playlist that houses all of her Alanis Morrisette, Bikini Kill and the Runaways. 

Brittany’s drunk too – the situation calls for it. Ever since the stupid ban on Lesbian PDA at McKinley (and it IS stupid, trust her), it’s been MONTHS of looking over their shoulders every time they even want to peck, or get called into the principal’s office, which wouldn’t be that bad except Santana’s got a scholarship she’s banking on and Brittany just wants to make sure she graduates with her and… it’s even more stupid to make waves. 

But sometimes, it’s just too much. Too much bullshit and today is one of those days. 

“Fucking Pam Macy gets caught blowing Puck in the stairwell and Figgins lets them off with a warning?!” Santana snaps. “Meanwhile, I just kiss your hand and he threatens suspension! I’m so sick of this bullshit double standard!” 

Honestly, Brittany is too. 

So when Santana raids her dad’s liquor cabinet and drags her upstairs, swigging from the bottle, who is Brittany to complain? She waits for Santana to stop chugging and then plucks the vodka from her girlfriend’s hands and tilts the burning liquid into her own mouth. 

They finish nearly half the bottle in those first two gulps. 

Now, that pleasant, dizzy sensation begins to take over as she’s wiping away the drops that stream down her chin with the back of her hand and tilting the nearly finished bottle back against her lips. She’s somehow already lost her shirt, but she’s totally fine with it, because Santana has too, and now Brittany’s watching as Santana moves to Bif Naked, obviously too riled to do anything but sing ‘I love Myself Today’ in this furious angry growl that sounds like Amy Winehouse and Joan Jett had sex and accidentally became one person in the process. 

Brittany’s still pissed, but she’s also drunk and super turned on, laid out on Santana’s bed, watching her girlfriend do that thing she does when she pumps her hips and arches her spine, pushing out her breasts, lost in the music and the lyrics as she’s singing and dancing around her room. 

Brittany’s so fricking in love with her it’s kinda crazy. 

She kinda loves that. 

She loves that she and Santana have been together for months, and every time Brittany thinks she can’t be any more in love with Santana… another day passes and she realizes she loves her more than she did the day before. 

She totally is dead gone on Santana, and it’s fricking amazing and beautiful and the stuff that Disney makes movies out of. 

How the hell can people not SEE that? 

“It’s just so stupid,” she complains, loud and over the music, catching Santana’s eye as her girl swivels around. “Look at how HOT you are! Look at how hot WE are!”

Because, even just like this, she knows they’re hot. Brittany sprawled on Santana’s black bed, ab muscles tight with the arousal she feels at the sight of her best friend and sex goddess girlfriend doing her sexy burlesque routine to her female empowerment rock song. 

Santana’s teary eyes shine her agreement at her as she points at her fervently and snarls, “ _I've had enough. Made up my mind - I'm gonna get up and out and wahhh!_ ” Brittany’s teeth dig down on her lower lip as Santana goes right into the chorus at the top of her lungs. “ _I love myself today, Not like yesterday. I'm cool, I'm calm - I'm gonna be okay! Uh huh-_ ” 

Brittany can’t help herself. She pushes off the comforter and swivels until she can crawl off the bed, edging toward Santana, feeling suddenly like a prowling cat. 

“Look at how HOT you are,” she whispers, and God, how can people not SEE it? How could they not understand that what they have is beautiful? It’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “I love you so much, babe.” 

Santana’s hands reach out and grab hold of her, pulling her up with that wiry strength Santana has in her slender body, until she’s flush against her, grinding against her girlfriend. 

She’s not sure when it goes from just dancing to making out, but as the song ends and the playlist starts up ‘Sex is Not the Enemy’ by Garbage, they’re already stumbling towards the bed, and she’s sucking the taste of vodka off of Santana’s tongue, fingers digging into Santana’s dark, thick hair. 

When Santana breaks the kiss to drag her mouth along the column of her throat, mumbling a ‘Fuck Britt, YOU’RE beautiful’ along the way, Brittany finds herself distracted by Santana’s vanity, and the image reflected back at her from the mirror that sits on top of it. 

_I don't feel guilty_ , Shirley Manson croons at her, as she watches the sexy, beautiful image of Santana sliding her mouth hotly along Brittany’s collar bone, dragging her bra straps down her shoulders. _No matter what they're telling me, I won't feel dirty and buy into their misery_ , she hears, so loud the frames vibrate on the walls, and Santana drags the cup of her bra down to swirl her tongue around Brittany’s nipple. 

_I won't be shamed cause I believe that love is free.  
It fuels the heart and sex is not my enemy._

Brittany heart pounds, vision suddenly blurry with tears as she watches them in the mirror, the way Santana moans against her breast, fingers working nimbly at her Cheerios skirt and dragging it down on one side of her hip. 

They’re so beautiful together. 

And God, if people could see this… if they could see it… maybe they would understand- 

She’s pushed flat on her back, broken out of her thoughts as the warm, heavy weight of Santana settles on her thighs. She’s somehow already managed to strip off every article of clothing they had on, and now she’s straddling Brittany naked. 

Brittany finds herself fighting her emotions, because Santana’s never been so beautiful as she is right now, and it’s just NOT FAIR. 

_True love is like gold_ , Shirley Manson tells her. _There's not enough to go around-_

“Brittany?!” Santana’s palm falls on her cheek, wiping at the wetness. “Why are you crying?” 

It is kind of funny, when she thinks about it, because Santana’s usually the drunk crier, not her, and now it’s kind of the other way around. 

“You’re just so BEAUTIFUL!” she slurs, hands smoothing up those tan, gorgeous thighs. “I love you so much! Just… why can’t they SEE that!?” 

Santana just stares at her, before her face breaks out into this relieved, but still sad smile. “Because they’re stupid, Brittany. And they’re blind. So just forget them and let’s get our mack on.” 

“But if they could just see you!” she insists, sitting up until she’s cradling Santana in her lap, palms wide open and traveling the expanse of her lover’s body, trying desperately to prove her point. “If they could just see us like this – they would know… they would have to-“ 

Santana cuts her off with a kiss, mouth open and wet and soft against her, cutting off Brittany’s fervent exclamation with a whimper. 

But Brittany, drunk on love and vodka, can’t help but feel one-track about this, and later, when she’s got her fingers deep inside of Santana, and Santana’s hips grind against her, riding her in a way that can only be seen as glorious, she finds herself fumbling for her cell phone with her free hand. 

“What are you doing?!” Santana asks, but her hips snap and she slams down hard on Brittany’s fingers, groaning, lost in sensation. 

“You don’t understand,” Brittany mumbles, and to prove it, she slides her finger across the screen of her IPhone and points it at the image of Santana coming down on her fingers. “God,” she breathes, hips bucking as Santana quickens her pace. “You have to see how beautiful-“ 

She’s cuts herself off when a moan rises in the back of her throat as she watches Santana raise and lower herself against on her cramped fingers, tightening muscles around her, squeezing the digits together. 

And she’s never been more serious about anything in her life. Her eyes lock onto Santana and she sees an angel, and nothing about this, NOTHING, that is anything but the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“You’re going to see-“ she mumbles, and swivels the phone so that it’s resting against the pillow, recording the two of them as they make love. “It’s so hot, baby-“ 

She lifts up and buries deeper into Santana, forearm flexing as her mouth latches onto Santana’s nipple, flicking hard with her tongue as her thumb works the bundle of nerves between Santana’s legs. 

When Santana comes, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world. 

\--

Afterwards, Santana’s cuddled against her, drowsy and blissed out from liquor and a hard orgasm. Santana’s Angry Girl playlist has moved on to Pink’s ‘Heartbreak Down’, which is kinda mellow considering what else has been blasting out of those speakers.

Brittany knows that Santana listened to this playlist a LOT back towards the end of junior year, when she told Brittany she loved her that first time. Sometimes Brittany forgets, but songs like this one always remind her. 

It makes her sad, and her arm pulls in tighter around Santana, reassuring herself. 

“I can’t believe you videotaped us,” Santana mumbles, a bleary look in her eyes. But she watches along with Brittany, smiling at the image of the two of them moving together as it plays on Brittany’s tiny screen. 

“Look at how good we are,” Brittany insists, because it’s true. There’s something almost magical about the intimacy that exists in the clip, the sounds of breathless moans and the whispered, fervent, audible ‘I love You’s that are exchanged before Santana comes apart on top of her. 

Brittany can’t stop watching it.

“We are pretty hot,” Santana agrees, pressing a kiss to the side of Brittany’s breast as she snuggles in deeper. 

“Right?!” Brittany says and presses her lips to the top of Santana’s head, dragging her thumb along her screen to rewind the moment when Santana comes. She’s still drunk, but her excitement has broken through any sort of lethargy, and she finds herself almost humming with adrenaline. 

“Fuck yeah.” Santana’s voice is thick with sleep. “We should totally post that to youtube,” she hears, in that acidic voice that sometimes sounds like sarcasm. “They don’t want to see us kiss? Watch us fuck, then.” 

It kinda sounds like a joke, coming from Santana, but it pings something inside Brittany, something that clamps onto her chest as she gnaws on her lower lip and futzes with the video time line. 

“Santana, we should.” Santana snorts, but Brittany’s serious. “Santana, if they saw this… if they saw how beautiful we are together… how could they say it’s ugly?” 

“People will say it’s ugly no matter what,” Santana says, growing heavy against her. “Because people suck.” 

“It’s like that Garbage song says,” Brittany says, realization dawning on her. “A revolution is the solution.” 

“Sex is Not the Enemy,” Santana drowsily hums. 

“Exactly.” Santana doesn’t respond. Brittany licks her lips, and once again stares at the video. “Santana? … can I post it?” 

Santana’s right at the edge of sleep, and for a second, Brittany thinks she’s actually passed out, before she hears a throaty chuckle that sounds like assent. 

“Babe?” 

“Anything you want, Britt-Britt,” she hears, and then Santana’s gone completely, mouth slumped against Brittany’s nipple and arm slung over her hip. Her breathing evens out, deep inhalations that exhale against her skin. 

It’s Santana at her most vulnerable and beautiful, safe and quiet in Brittany’s arms. Though Brittany is still dazed with liquor and shocked with adrenaline that comes from conviction and her orgasm, she finds herself struck by the force of the emotion that courses through her. 

Nothing that feels this pure… this PERFECT, can be bad.

“ _A revolution is the solution_ ,” she sings softly, and turns again to the video on her IPhone, skidding back to the one perfect moment when Santana shatters on top of her, and Brittany exhales and shudders visibly, dragging her forehead between Santana’s breasts to calm herself before Santana’s clamping both palms against Brittany’s cheeks and forcing her chin up to crash her lips against hers. 

… and it’s beautiful. 

Their love is so tangible, so THERE, and how can anyone say it’s not better than stupid Pam Macy blowing Puck after seeing this… 

She‘s crying again, but Brittany lets the tears fall. 

“A revolution is the solution,” she reminds herself, letting the words work themselves out of her thick, swollen lips. 

She tightens her arm against Santana, until the other girl’s cheek is pressed right above her beating heart, and begins to type with her free hand. 

FIN


End file.
